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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23245810">Lovely; Move</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicrt/pseuds/moonjongup'>moonjongup (nicrt)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>JO1 (Japan Band), NINE PERCENT (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Dance, Attraction, Friends to Lovers, Inspired by Music, M/M, Meet-Cute, Strangers to Lovers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-20 05:20:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,097</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23245810</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicrt/pseuds/moonjongup</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Theirs was a discovery only understood through dance.</p><p>Or: A self-indulgent fic where two of my favourites meet.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kawashiri Ren/Zhu Zhengting | Jung Jung</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Lovely; Move</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There's a sharpness in his movements that was both a freedom and restraint. There's a fluidity in each of his steps taken, a slave to the music playing. There's a technique here that he is very familiar with, but it's unbridled by the scars of the past. There's a passion here; like his, a love for the dance. But there was more, always more, offered by a dancer. And despite the cool and aloof mask he wore, there was a fire burning behind his hooded eyes.</p>
<p></p><div>
<p></p><div><p>Zhengting's clapping, cooing, and awing before he could properly analyse the thought process he'd been having. There was a deeper meaning to it. For now, it was enough to understand that the other dancer was good. That as a rookie idol, he was anything but a rookie. He could tell, that this person was years ahead of most others in terms of dancing experience.</p></div><div><p><em>You can see it in his eyes</em>, Zhengting thought, appraising the young man.</p></div><div><p>He didn't dance the way Ziyi did; who moved with a gentle flow that melded into his usually strong choreography.</p></div><div><p>He didn't dance the way Zeren did; all power and precision, the moves ingrained into his muscle memory when he let himself loose.</p></div><div><p>The closest he could compare him to would be Xukun. Perfection pursued. That was Xukun's dance style. No matter the stage, the performance had to be whole. Completed. Perfect.</p></div><div><p><em>Don't be mean</em>, Zhengting chided himself. He was his own person. He didn't have to be compared to anyone. Least of all, with people whom Zhengting knew like his own heart.</p></div><div><p>The head of silver-dyed hair bobbed up and down, the other dancer bowing in sincere thanks as soon as Zhengting praised him. His smile came off strained, though. Zhengting understood why. They were both strangers in a strange situation and of the two, the other idol was still new to all these requirements. If they had been trainees under the South Korean system, Zhengting would have probably been tasked to lead and the other follow, perhaps. He was the senior after all, both in age and in career.</p></div><div><p>Zhengting flashed him a bright smile, probably blinding and a little bit mischievous. The young man blinked at the sudden grin. </p></div><div><p>"You're really good!" Zhengting said, clapping again. "Our styles are similar, actually. Although, I lean more heavily on my modern dancing and ballet background."</p></div><div><p>As the translator spoke, Zhengting watched as understanding dawn upon the other's face. The light in his eyes brightened, shuttered suddenly by concentration. He tilted his head, his smile faltering into something like confused but curious. He spoke then, softly and polite; expression serene. Very different from the performer Zhengting managed to bear witness to.</p></div></div><div>
  <p>"He asked if you don't mind showing him what you mean. By how your styles are similar."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Zhengting grinned again, heart elated. The dancer before him smiled back in return, the corners of his lips twitching involuntarily.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>A chance to show off was always appreciated.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>A chance to show off to this mysterious person, with a story unknown to Zhengting but with a love and passion that could very much equal his?</p>
</div><div>
  <p>He turned on his heel, marching over to the computer to play a different song.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>And when the music started, Zhengting danced.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>%O%</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Right off the bat, all the naked eye could see a dancer made from nimble form and found in languid grace. Each beat seemed prolonged by his movements. It was like witnessing a flower in bloom, petals folding outwards. Unfurling and curling, limbs stretched wide and body contorting.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Ren understood the basis of modern dance. It's the personification of a dancer's interpretation of the music. Different, from what he learnt of ballet. Very similar, however, to the hip hop style he had come to adopt. It was freeing. It was professional. It was movement unleashed, relishing under the weight of the music and powered through by the emotions of their dancer.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>But underneath it all, there was a kind of control. A containment, that didn't wholly overtook the performance itself. There was freedom of expression, but a discipline in the range of motion. For a moment though, Ren could see a flicker of something almost painful beneath the layers of his dance. But the moment passed and Ren wondered if he imagined it.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Still, the other dancer had been right, in a way. They were very similar in dance. Very different in execution. Ren could see exactly how they could fit each other, against one another, in a mould and without it. He could imagine it. With every curl, Ren would curve after him. With every leap, Ren would catch him. With every turn, every lunge, and every pirouette, Ren would match him step for step.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"<em>There's a kind of magic to your dancing</em>," Ren wanted to tell him. "<em>It's mesmerising</em>." </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Then he imagined it: a hand in another hand, an arm around a waist. Legs tangled together, a sequence of steps following an invisible beat. His signature expression: dark, mysterious, and alluring; paired with his newest partner's own: open, vulnerable, and captivating. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>And suddenly, he wanted to make this performance happen in the most glorious and majestic way possible.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Ren could feel his grin nearly splitting his face in half when the other idol finished. The other young man barely turned to face him, when the words were out of him: "Please let me collaborate with you!"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>He was embarrassed, but the blow softened when all the other idol did was tilt his head to the side, his expression a question. Then, he laughed out loudly, when the translator finished speaking. It was a dainty laughter, like wind chimes. <em>Loud wind chimes</em>, Ren couldn't help but muse. And it was infectious, the way the other dancer was so open with his expressions. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Ren let out his own embarrassed laughter. His grin hadn't faltered one bit though.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"You're right," he said, beaming up at the other idol. "Our styles are similar. Different too."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>The modern dancer hummed in agreement. "A good match. Although I don't think anybody figured that out when they first approached us to do this collaboration."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"It sounds like you're on board with this then," Ren said. "In that case, I look forward to working with you!"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>This was a performance he wanted to create now. Something inherently his; something beautifully theirs. Excitement and adrenaline drummed through his veins.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>The brown haired dancer smiled brightly back at him. "Me too! Let's do well and create a great stage together!"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Ren couldn't wait to get started.</p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i just wanted to mash collab something like this okay? finding out ren did ballet too kinda did it for me. gentle cute meets hyper cute. </p><p>the title of the fic is inspired by <a href="https://open.spotify.com/track/2OJBM9ftQzYjLfCwUhjsQG">Lovely</a> and <a href="https://open.spotify.com/track/1cgBWgoL6520lR2QZDzdGN">Move</a>.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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